


Everything

by divakat



Series: Knowing [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birth, Cute Kids, Established Relationship, Family, Gay Sex, Intense, M/M, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Romance, Sequel, Smutty, hurttony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divakat/pseuds/divakat
Summary: Set two years after the events of 'Knowing', this MUCH-requested sequel checks in on Gibbs, Tony, and Isabella as their lives together continue to unfold. It will weave canon events into it's Alt-universe in creative ways and hopefully fill all of your schmoopy, angsty, hurt-comfort, slightly bizarre requests for more of this series.





	1. Everything

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a WIP. My time for writing is often limited and there may be decent sized gaps between postings. If you'd rather wait until it's finished, that's just fine. There are currently 6 complete chapters and I will be posting them one every week or so in the beginning to give myself time to write a bit more. Even with that, I suspect I will eventually outpace my ability to produce whole chapters. I can promise it will be worth it though as, hopefully, you'll see by this first chapter.

“It’s a few more weeks, tops.” Tony nuzzled into the soft hair of Jethro’s chest and tongued a slightly peaked nipple, loving the immediate response the small movement elicited. Much to his delight, certain parts of Jethro’s body had retained their extra sensitivity long after Isabella was finished with them.

Jethro grunted, half in pleasure at Tony’s touch, half in annoyance. “You know I don’t like anything the FBI decides to stick their noses into.”

“I know.” Tony sighed and gave up his attentions for a moment. This was a familiar discussion and one that he knew Jethro wouldn’t let rest until they’d had it one more time. “But we’ve practically wrapped up their case and handed it to them on a silver platter. Not even the Feebs could screw this up.”

“Don’t be so damn sure.” He ran his fingers through Tony’s shorter than normal hair, memorizing the feel of it against his fingertips. No doubt DiNozzo would grow it out as soon as the opportunity arose.

Tony’s team had been working an undercover assignment for the last several months. Portions of weapons shipments had been going missing from supply depots at more than one naval base. The missing shipments were well masked to look like glitches in the ordering and inventory forms but someone had caught on to the pattern and discretely alerted NCIS. DiNozzo and his team had tracked a few of the weapons and were currently targeting a Sergeant in procurement with Atlantic Ordnance Command in Yorktown whose family past included ties to organized crime, as well as several of his underlings who were living slightly more lavish lifestyles than their E-3  salaries could account for. DiNozzo had been placed in the base’s procurement office as a young petty officer transferring in from San Diego to be closer to family in DC.

Tony had jumped into the role with both feet as he typically did with undercover assignments, even spending 2 weeks in an accelerated basic program at the Naval Recruit Command Training Center in Illinois as preparation. When he came out he could walk like a sailor, talk like a sailor, and more importantly, press and fold his clothes like a sailor, something that was essential to maintaining his cover every day. Jethro wasn’t above admitting that he liked the new regulation cut that came with the assignment as well as the fact that Tony’s ass looked damn good in uniform.

After a few weeks in place making friends over nights out and inroads around the coffee pot at the office, something DiNozzo’s frat boy past made him uniquely suited for, Tony’s MO had been to let it slip that he was struggling with heavy gambling debt and looking to make some quick cash. It hadn’t taken long for him to be approached with the very offer he was looking for. It would have been nice if the assignment ended there, with the arrest of the officer and his cohorts, but the FBI had had to stick their nose in as usual and use the NCIS op to do their own dirty work on cracking the organized crime syndicate.

Despite the usual reassurances, Gibbs didn’t like anything that kept Tony undercover for longer than absolutely necessary, and he definitely didn’t like an assignment that forced him to live on base housing nearly 200 miles away to keep up appearances. They’d hardly seen each other in the last few months, only managing to sneak in a few nights together under Tony’s cover of visiting his family in DC. The visits were all-too-short for all of them and Bella cried and cried each time he left, asking for her “Daddy To-ey” until it nearly broke Jethro’s heart. They’d snagged a few passing moments together at NCIS when Tony had to be brought in to get Morrow and the rest of his team up to speed in person but it was nowhere near enough for either of them and the thought of the case dragging out further and further was frustrating as hell. This was their first night together in over 3 weeks. Most of the time they survived on phone sex and Tony’s near nightly calls to sing Bella to sleep. For the first time in his life he understood what it must have been like for Shannon and Kelly when he was shipped out.

“Just watch your own back.” Jethro said seriously. “Don’t get too involved in Fornell’s bullshit. I don’t put it past the FBI to let NCIS get caught in the crossfire if they blow things on their end.”

“You got it, Boss.” The words may have been flip but Tony knew that Jethro understood how seriously he took the warning. As an agent, Tony still valued advice from Gibbs above all others and knew he would be a fool to disregard it.

They were both silent for a moment. Tony’s recent prolonged absences had only reinforced the decision they had made to become a family before Bella’s birth. Jethro was unable to imagine his life without the younger man in it and there wasn’t a part of him that even wanted to begin to try.

“Missed you.” Jethro broke the silence, fingers drifting down Tony’s cheek to linger at his lips.

“As much as the first time I left you?” He kissed the pad of Jethro’s thumb.

“Mmm…maybe more.”

“You know, when I came home from South America that first time there were candles.” Tony cocked an eyebrow and grinned up at him wickedly before resuming his worship of Jethro’s body that had been so rudely interrupted by their discussion a moment ago.

Jethro laughed. “Yeah, and I was as big as a house.”

“You were sexy as hell. Still are.” Tony shifted lower and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the flat of Jethro’s belly, carefully avoiding his straining erection for the moment.

“Told you I loved you that night.” Jethro realized that his heart felt lighter after more than two years with Tony than it had even then, that the words he’d spoken to him for the first time that night had taken on meaning far beyond anything in his experience. “Must have been the hormones,” he teased.

Tony pushed up on his hands and knees and licked a slow stripe up Jethro’s cock, holding the older man’s eyes the entire time. “Tell me you still love me,” he whispered thickly.

“Later,” Jethro sat up, forcing Tony back. “Right now I think I’d rather show you.” He took his mouth in a long, deep kiss much more powerful that words. “Now roll over.”

* * *

 

“Stay,” Jethro’s hand clasped Tony’s hip as he watched him across the pillow. Bella was currently snuggled in between them, favorite stuffed toy clasped in her tiny fist. When they’d heard her begin to rouse in the next room, Tony had gone in and taken over diaper duty without being asked and brought the still sleepy little girl to their bed where she’d promptly curled into his chest and drifted off again.

“You know I would if I could.” Tony stroked Bella’s fine little ringlets, pressed his cheek to her head, and inhaled the sweet smell of her. He hated being away from her even for one more day and every time he returned home he could swear she’d grown more beautiful when he wasn’t looking. “Gotta report in by 1400 and it’s a long drive. Time for breakfast though, and I can drop Bella at daycare.”

Gibbs nodded. He’d been on the other end of this conversation too many times and he knew the guilt Tony already piled on himself for his absence, how difficult it was. He’d be damned if he was going to lay his own pain on top of that. “Never thought I would miss someone again. Guess I’m not used to it.”

“Me either. You know I’m doing everything I can…”

“I know,” Jethro interrupted. “I’ll keep an eye on Fornell and his team. Maybe put a little pressure on Morrow to get this done.”

“I can handle this, Gibbs,” Tony said firmly. “I know you mean well but what does it look like if I have my baby daddy talking to my boss for me?”

Jethro grunted his understanding and frustration. Most of the time they managed to keep work and private life separate but only just barely. Tony was still making a name for himself as an agent-and a good one at that-and he was right. It wasn’t his place to interfere. He didn’t have to like it though. “You know we really ought to have a better term than that after almost three years.” He still hated that particular moniker.

“Well, ‘partner’ gets confusing, ‘boyfriend’ makes it sound too casual. ‘Lover’ I like,” Tony purred, fingers tracing the cut of Jethro’s jaw. “But honestly, they don’t make a word for what you are to me,” he said softly, and his words took in both Jethro and Isabella who had begun to stir and stretch between them.

“Daddy, you make ‘nana cakes?” Her sleepy blue eyes blinked up at him.

“I’ve been waiting all week to make you banana pancakes, Gracie.” Tony kept the use of his special pet name for his daughter reserved for times when they were alone as a family.

Instantly awake, she squealed and embraced him, and then scooted down the bed, not even waiting for them before toddling out the bedroom door.

“Guess quiet time is over,” Tony smiled, scooting closer to Jethro and kissing him gently.

“Everything,” Jethro whispered against his mouth as they broke apart.

“What?”

“You’re my everything, Tony. Don’t forget that when you’re out there proving yourself, okay?” Jethro said seriously. There was something desperate hovering beneath the surface of it.

“Not in a million years. I promise.” Tony sealed it with a kiss, only pulling away when the sound of small crashes from Bella’s attached bedroom indicated impending disaster.  

* * *

 

NCIS director Tom Morrow listened to broken radio feed inside MTAC. The screen in front of him showed a satellite image of a warehouse in Baltimore. He’d just watched three black SUV’s pull up and unload. He could feel the sweat trickling down the small of his back but knew his expression gave away none of the anxiety he felt over this culmination of a months-long operation. Morrow silently cursed the FBI for pushing them to the point they found themselves at now.

“Is DiNozzo in place?” Morrow spoke into his headset.

“In place and cool as a cucumber,” Balboa’s voice came back clearly. This was his team and his op, but with the joint involvement of another agency, coordination was crucial.

Morrow relaxed just slightly. All he knew was that he was going to be damn glad when this was over. After months of making inroads, DiNozzo had finally been invited to the big boys table. A big drop was taking place and he’d been entrusted to accompany their target, Sergeant Paul Guidetti, for the first time.

“Agent Sacks, is the FBI’s team in place?” Morrow watched the upper corner of the screen where a headset-adorned Sacks was jointly monitoring the op.

“We’re in place, Director. Just waiting on the go word from your agent. I sincerely hope he knows what’s at stake here.” Sacks’ voice conveyed his doubts.

“He’ll get it done. Just give him time. If he tries to rush it, they’re bound to suspect something. DiNozzo’s good, he’ll read the scene and the players and determine the best time to move.” Morrow could sense Sacks straining at the bit and it made him nervous as hell. The last thing any of them needed tonight was an FBI agent with an itchy trigger finger.

Sacks nodded on the screen, clearly dissatisfied as they both settled in to listen to the audio feed.

Fifteen minutes later they seemed no closer to anything substantial, at least in their audio evidence, and Morrow could see Sacks leaning further and further forward in his chair, knuckles clenched.

“Okay, this isn’t happening. Two more minutes and my team is going in to make the bust,” Sacks’ frustration was clear.

Morrow stood.” Stand down, Agent Sacks. If your team goes in now all you’ve got is circumstantial evidence and a possible firefight. Wait for the transaction and DiNozzo’s signal that he’s clear.” He covered the microphone on his headset. “Get me Agent Fornell. Someone needs to talk this guy off the ledge before he blows the entire operation,” he said to one of the communication techs.

DiNozzo was essentially operating in the blind. Due to the risk of discovery he wasn’t wearing an earpiece and had no way to receive communication from the outside. He’d been wired with a microphone carefully concealed beneath a false flap of skin on his stomach but it only let them hear what was going on in the warehouse, nothing more.

“Alpha team, take your positions to enter the warehouse, wait on my signal,” Sacks ordered.

“God damn it, I said _stand down_ ,” Morrow boomed, striding toward the screen.

“I’m sorry, Director, I have my own orders for this operation and if your agent can’t make this happen, we’re not going to let these guys walk away. We’re go in 60 seconds.”

The FBI agents confirmed their positions and readiness.

“I have Agent Fornell for you, sir.” The tech handed Morrow the phone.

“Fornell, you better call off your dogs right this second. Agent Sacks is about to blow this entire operation and endanger the life of my agent,” Morrow barked, the need to maintain a cool and calm demeanor all but forgotten.

“This operation was taken out of my hands, Director, but I’ll make a call.” At least Fornell had the decency to sound frustrated.

“Make it. Now.”

“Go.” Sacks ordered.

Morrow heard Sack’s voice through the headset and scrambled to get the NCIS team in place. Balboa’s team was only there for recon and communications but Morrow would be damned if he wasn’t going to at least put them in the fight. “Beta team, FBI is a go. Get Agent DiNozzo out of there in one piece and provide backup, NOW!”

A cacophony of shouts and breaking timber assaulted Morrow’s ears as the agents took out guards and raided the warehouse. The sharp reports of gunfire followed and Morrow felt the bitter burn of bile rise up in his throat.

A few moments later there was silence.

“Report!” Morrow ordered.

“Scene is secure, sir. Suspects are either dead or in custody. Wait a moment…”Sir, we have an agent down. We need immediate medical backup.”

“Who?” Morrow’s heart was in his stomach. The techs were already dispatching medical backup to the scene.

“It’s DiNozzo, Sir. Took one in the gut. He’s breathing but he’s loosing blood.”

Morrow didn’t need to see DiNozzo to know it was serious. The tremor in Balboa’s voice told him everything he needed to know.

“Agent Sacks, your AD and I will be having a very short discussion about this as soon as we get my agents taken care of.” He gave the signal to cut the feed from the FBI.

“Get Agent Gibbs on the phone. Get him _now.”_ Calling family to tell them that their loved one had been injured or shot on duty was his least favorite responsibility. The thought of one day having to make this particular phone call had caused him more than one sleepless night over the last two years.

“You better not die on me, DiNozzo,” he muttered to himself, fist tight around the phone’s receiver as it began to ring.

* * *

 

Jethro had always known this was a possibility. That one day, one of them could be sitting in the very spot he was in now, smell of hospital disinfectant stinging his nose, bitter taste of adrenaline and fear seeping across his tongue.

Waiting.

The waiting was the very worst. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of the presence of the other people in the room, of Ducky’s calm and reassuring silence, of Abby’s fingers wrapped tightly around his own. The only thing that mattered to him right now, however, was the weight of Bella in his arms, the reassuring warmth of her small body curled in his lap, tucked beneath his ribs, nestled into the very spot where she had begun her life nearly three years ago.

He’d debated on bringing her to the hospital with him, but when he’d gotten the call about Tony, Bella had sensed his alarm immediately, had clung to him, refusing to allow him to leave her at the house with Abby. Perhaps his toddling daughter understood better than he did that her presence was the only thing that could hold him together.

 “Agent Gibbs?”

Jethro raised his head and forced tired eyes to focus. He nodded to the man who had just emerged from behind the closed surgical area doors and was still dressed in scrubs and cap. Gingerly passing the sleeping Isabella to Abby, he stood and moved stiffly forward, aware of the sudden silence of held breath and the weight of several pairs of eyes on him.

The surgeon’s face was calm and gave away nothing, but his eyes seemed warm and sympathetic. “I’m Dr. Emerson, the head of trauma.” He held Gibbs’ eyes rather than extending his hand.

“Tell me.” Jethro said steadily, forcing the words from his throat. 

“Agent DiNozzo is still in surgery but his bleeding is under control and he’s stable at this time. Our team is still working to repair some of the damage the bullet did in his abdomen and it will likely be several more hours until he’s ready to go to recovery, but barring any unforeseen complications I feel confident that he’ll make it through this.” His voice was even and self-assured, reflecting his statement.

Jethro felt the air drain from his lungs and the world start turning beneath his feet again.

“If you don’t mind, Agent Gibbs, I’d like to speak with you privately regarding some of the details of the procedure. I’ve asked one of my colleagues to join us.”

Gibbs could tell there was something Emerson was holding back but he sensed that he was being truthful about Tony’s condition. He nodded his assent and allowed himself to be led through a set of double doors and into a small conference room where another scrub-clothed physician awaited.

“This is Dr. Oliver. She’s our head of Andrology and I’ve asked her to consult on Agent DiNozzo’s case.” He gestured to the woman already seated at the small table in the room who immediately rose and extended her hand.

Dr. Oliver was tall, thin, and Jethro would have described her as more handsome than pretty. She wore little makeup and round glasses which didn’t do much to distract from her rather prominent nose. Her deep brown eyes were warm, however, and something about her made Jethro feel more at ease. “Agent Gibbs,” she acknowledged.

“Seems like we’re all going to get to know each other a bit better today. Call me Jethro.” He pulled out a chair, still feeling a little tremble in his knees from the fading rush of adrenaline.

Emerson wasted no time once they were all seated. “Dr. Oliver is here because of some unique circumstances which arose during Agent DiNozzo’s surgery. There’s no easy way to broach this topic, Jethro, but were you aware that Agent DiNozzo was pregnant?” he asked gently.

The words hit Gibbs in the gut and he stared at the pair of surgeons in confusion. “Pregnant? There has to be a mistake. Tony made it clear from the time we met that he wasn’t capable of conceiving or carrying children. We never talked specifics but he said that he’d been tested at the usual age. He seemed pretty certain.”

“Well, absolutes are often a difficult thing, especially with male fertility,” Dr. Oliver took over. “I’ve reviewed Agent DiNozzo’s history as well as his current charts. He was definitely pregnant, about 3 weeks along, so still very early, and honestly, I’d say with his reproductive anatomy, conception was certainly a million to one shot. I can’t definitively say whether he would have been able to carry the child to term but I think it unlikely.”

Jethro’s head was spinning. Something finally clicked in his head. “You said he _was_ pregnant?”

Oliver nodded. “I’m sorry, but with the trauma to Agent DiNozzo’s abdomen and the subsequent blood loss, the fetus spontaneously aborted. There was nothing that could have been done.”

He looked to Emerson. “So you brought in the head of a department to tell me we just lost a baby we shouldn’t have been able to have in the first place?” There was the barest tinge of grief at the thought but it was outweighed by his sheer incredulity that even the remotest possibility had existed for this.

“Not exactly.” Dr. Oliver acknowledged him directly, ignoring the slight. “In reviewing Agent DiNozzo’s charts, the reasons for his infertility are quite clear. Essentially, the canal which would normally allow fertilization and subsequent birth is almost completely closed off. As I said, the odds were incredibly against him ever conceiving naturally,” She explained patiently.

“We seem to do pretty good at that part,” Jethro shook his head, thinking back to the shock of finding out that he was pregnant with Bella.

“The good news is that defects of this kind are quite common and also very easily remedied, in fact, the correction techniques are so minimally invasive that we usually perform them as an outpatient procedure.”

Something warm and hopeful pushed out the dread in Jethro’s heart. “You’re saying he _can_ get pregnant?”

“I don’t want to be overly optimistic in this case. Unfortunately, Agent Dinozzo has some other problems impeding conception. One of his ovaries is underdeveloped and the other has quite a bit of scar tissue. His reproductive organs also aren’t positioned ideally for carrying which makes miscarriage more likely, particularly in men.”

“I’m confused, why are we even going through all of this if you can’t fix what’s wrong?” It seemed almost cruel to get his hopes up and then dash them repeatedly. Jethro simply kept reminding himself that Emerson said Tony would be okay. Anything beyond that was icing.

“I believe that by removing some of the scar tissue using a laser procedure and re-suspending Agent DiNozzo’s womb in a more ideal configuration I can increase his chances of conception and carrying a child to term exponentially.”

“So you do a thing with a laser and make his canal or whatever bigger, move some stuff around and he could have a baby if he wants? If we want?” He pinned Oliver in place with his eyes, demanding a straight answer.

She nodded. “There are never any guarantees, Jethro, but this will give him the same odds as anyone else out there.”

“And the reason that we’re discussing this is that we’ll need your consent to go ahead with the procedures. The procedures are all minimally invasive and by themselves, carry few risks of serious complications. Because we’ve already made a surgical incision to the area Dr. Oliver needs, she can do her work in conjunction with the other repairs we’re doing due to the GSW. I’m sorry, Jethro, but she’ll also need to perform a D and C procedure due to the terminated pregnancy. It’s why I asked to her to consult in the first place.” Emerson took over the conversation with an even and sympathetic tone.

Through the pounding pulse of disbelief if his head, Jethro brought up the clear memory of Tony’s voice during his own pregnancy, _‘I’d do this for you if there was any way I could.’_ He remembered the pain and regret in those words and knew that his decision was clear.

“And there’s no additional risk to him?” Jethro wanted to be absolutely certain of this one point.

“No more than he already faces from his injuries. It won’t add to his recovery time either, though he’s still looking at a long road there,” Emerson reassured him.

He dreaded the thought of having to convey the news of the loss of their child to Tony but this, this was something so unlooked for, so incredible. This was a gift beyond anything either of them had ever hoped for and there was no way he would deny it to him. “Tell me what I have to sign and I’ll sign it,” Gibbs said firmly.


	2. Losing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant what I said about free time! So busy this week I did't even have time to post this already-finished chapter until now. Thank you so much for the incredible feedback so far on this continuation. I'm stunned and humbled and everything else. If I haven't gotten back to your comment yet, I promise I will soon. Just as soon as I find time to breathe again.   
> Thank you for reading!

Jethro took a deep breath as he pushed through the swinging doors and re-entered the waiting room. His world had changed for worse and perhaps better in the space of ten minutes and he blinked a few times beneath the harsh florescence of the overhead lights, trying to adjust. He immediately noted a new arrival and felt anger which had been bubbling beneath the surface of his worry for Tony suddenly rise as Balboa lifted his head and met his eyes.

“What in the hell happened out there?” Jethro strode over to the younger man who stood to face him. Balboa was a solid agent despite his age and Gibbs doubted whatever had gone wrong during the op had been his doing. He knew where the orders were coming from on this one.

“How is he?” Balboa didn’t flinch beneath Gibbs’ fury.

“Answer the question.”

“I will, just as soon as you tell me whether the man whose blood I still have all over my shirt is gonna live or die.” It took balls to stand up to Leroy Jethro Gibbs when he wasn’t a raging wall of anger and Balboa was taking his life in his hands. “I know what he is to you, but he’s my team, my responsibility.”

Jethro blinked, surprised to be met with determination to match his own. He took a deep breath and tried to imagine how he would feel if the circumstances were reversed.  “He’s still in surgery, but they expect him to make a full recovery.” Hearing himself say the words out loud was somehow calming even if they concealed some incredibly important details. “Now tell me.”

“FBI blew the call.” Balboa shook his head. “They rushed their guys in without even giving Tony a chance. Morrow was screaming in his ear to stand down, but this guy Sacks didn’t bother to listen. Didn’t bother to think, if you ask me.” He gave Gibbs the details. “He’s back at NCIS right now trying to blame Tony for dropping the ball, and save his own sorry ass. If it weren’t for Morrow, I probably would have punched the guy’s lights out.”

“Punch him? I’m gonna shoot him.” His anger, diminished somewhat only a moment ago, had flared to new life.

Turning from Balboa, Gibbs addressed Ducky and Abby who sat watching him nervously. “Duck, I need you to keep an eye on Tony for me. Anything changes, _anything_ , and I am back in 20 even if I have to run every red light between here and the Navy Yard.”

“I won’t let anything happen to him, Jethro,” the older man promised sincerely.

“Abby, I put a call into Jack. He’s on his way, but if you can…” He reached out a hand and brushed the curls back from his daughter’s face while she continued to sleep, feeling the edge of grief creep back in for a split second. The rest of the words would not pass the lump in his throat.

“As long as you need me to.” Her face softened as she watched him continue to stroke Isabella’s cheek. “But don’t you dare go all Dark Gibbs, Gibbs. She’s got one father who’s been shot, she doesn’t need another one in jail.” Her tone was surprisingly firm.

Gibbs realized she was absolutely right. As much as he wanted to put his fist around the throat of the man responsible for Tony nearly losing his life, the last thing he could afford to be right now was reckless. “I’ll trade out the car seat.” He leaned in and kissed Abby’s forehead before bending to let his lips linger against Isabella’s hair for a moment. They would get through this, all of them, and that was all that really mattered tonight.

* * *

 

NCIS Director Tom Morrow glanced toward his closed office doors the moment before they burst open. He’d known this was coming. In fact, he’d expected it before now. He moved quickly to put himself between Gibbs and the two FBI agents who stood in front of his desk.

“That him?” Gibbs snarled around Morrow at Fornell, gesturing toward the only man in the room he was unfamiliar with.

“Agent Gibbs, Agents Fornell and Sacks were just…” Morrow began as patiently as he could.

“I want him _hung_ for this, Director. Of all the reckless, stupid…” He dodged to Morrow’s right but was cut off again, the promises he’d made to himself back at the hospital about restraint fleeing at the sight of the man responsible for his current pain and Tony’s.

“That’s _enough_ , Agent Gibbs.” Morrow mustered his most commanding tone. “What is Agent DiNozzo’s status?”

Gibbs respected Morrow as much as he respected anyone and the authority in his voice struck at something deep inside him. It was just enough to bring him back into his head a little. “His _status?_ “ Jethro spat the word. “His status is that he’s lying on his back in an operating room with three different doctors trying to repair the damage that _he_ caused.” He lobbed the accusation at Sacks.

“Now hold on just a second, I…” Sacks tried to interject.

“His _status_ is that he’s lucky to be alive right now, and so help me, if they dig that bullet out of him and it turns out it came from an FBI gun…”

“ENOUGH!” Fornell finally spoke over the cacophony, shocking Gibbs into momentary silence. “I’m glad to hear Agent DiNozzo will recover and I’m sure Agent Sacks is as well.” He looked pointedly at the man to his right.

Gibbs bristled at this but Fornell continued, his posture becoming more informal.

“Listen, Jethro, we all know Sacks screwed the pooch on this one.”

“Agent Fornell, I will not…” Sacks once again tried to object.

Fornell simply held up a hand to silence him. “And we all know that statement will never leave this room. The FBI’s official statement will be that this was a successful joint operation with one minor casualty who is expected to make a full recovery from his injuries. _Unofficially_ I can personally promise you that Agent Sacks will be disciplined appropriately for his cavalier disregard of Director Morrow’s objections during the operation and that he won’t be overseeing more than the inside of a cubicle until I’m fully satisfied that he’s learned the error of his ways.”

“I will not be…” Sacks’ jaw had grown tighter as Fornell spoke and he tried to speak once more.

“You will be.” Fornell rounded on him. “And you’ll be happy about it, because the other option is that I fire your ass right this second and have you escorted from the building. You jumped the gun. You should have given Agent DiNozzo more time to work, and everyone in this room, hell, everyone  in the God damn Hoover building, knows it. You almost lost an agent tonight due to your own recklessness. Doesn’t matter that he was one of theirs not one of ours.”

Sacks was finally silent, thought his clenched fists told Gibbs just what he thought of Fornell’s assessment of the situation.

Morrow looked between the three men in the room. “Good. I believe that settles things to my satisfaction with one exception.” He spoke to Fornell directly. “I would like your personal assurance that, regardless of Agent Sacks’ future with the FBI, we will not see him here at NCIS or attached to any future joint operations.”

Fornell gave Gibbs an appraising look. “Done. In fact, I think, given the circumstances, that might be in everyone’s best interests.”

Morrow nodded. “If that’s all, Agent Gibbs, I think you probably have someplace more important to be right now,” he suggested pointedly. “I’d appreciate an update on Agent DiNozzo’s progress. After you’ve had time, of course.”

Jethro hesitated, but finally nodded in agreement. “He’ll be in surgery for a while longer.”

“I’m truly sorry about DiNozzo, Gibbs. He’s shaping up to be a good agent. Hope this doesn’t take him out for long.” Fornell’s voice sounded oddly sympathetic. “Don’t tell him that came from me though.”

“Wouldn’t think of it, Tobias.” Fornell might be as much of a bastard as he was but Jethro knew sincerity when he heard it.

A smart man knows that there are times when silence is the best course of action. Agent Sacks was clearly not a smart man. “I’m sorry Agent DiNozzo was a minor casualty in this, but I’m sure he knew the risks of the job when he took it. I’m glad none of his injuries were permanent.”

That was it. Gibbs snapped, and neither Morrow nor Fornell were quick enough to stop him. Before any of them even realized what was happening, Jethro had Sacks pinned to the wall, forearm pressed up against his throat.

“A minor casualty? You think just because he didn’t _die_ , he was a minor casualty?” Jethro was seething now. “He was pregnant, you son of a bitch. _Was._ And he didn’t even know it until it was too late. That’s what your inability to supervise this operation cost tonight. You killed a child.” He felt Morrow and Fornell pulling at his shoulders and pushed himself away using Sacks’ body as leverage. “You killed a child, you bastard. Live with _that.”_

With tears of pain and fury shining in his eyes and his pulse pounding in his ears, he shrugged off the hands holding him back and left the three speechless men standing in his wake as he fled out the office doors and down the stairs.

* * *

 

Tony woke to the to the soft sound of Jethro’s voice calling his name somewhere close to his ear. Something vile had crawled inside his mouth and siphoned every ounce of moisture from his tongue, and his eyes felt swollen, sticky, and terribly heavy.

“Hey.” His voice was a raw whisper as he forced his eyes open and took in Jethro’s care-worn face. “You look like hell,” Tony croaked.

Jethro smiled, blue eyes glistening with obvious relief. “Don’t look too hot yourself. You remember where you are this time or do we need to argue about it again?”

Tony had some very vague recollections, memories that felt like fever dreams, where Jethro’s calm voice explained to him that he’d been shot and was safely out of surgery at Bethesda. If the dull ache on his left side was anything to go by, surely a bare hint filtering through the haze of pain medications, he didn’t need Gibbs to tell him that he was going to have one hell of a good scar to remind him of the ordeal. “Can I have some water?”

Reaching for a cup with a straw that sat on the table beside Tony’s bed, Gibbs held it to his mouth and let him to take a small sip as he had been instructed to do. It was the first thing they had allowed him by mouth since surgery.

“How long have I been here?” Time was something Tony’s fuzzy head had no concept of.

“Been out of surgery a little less than 48 hours. They’ve kept you out through most of it.” He wrapped his fingers around Tony’s hand through the rail of the bed.

“And how long have you been here?” Tony squeezed Jethro’s hand and held his eyes, trying to stay focused through his cottony brain.

“What do you think?” Gibbs asked quietly. He knew that Tony already knew the answer to his own question.

“I’m sorry, Jethro. I never wanted to put you through this.” Tony knew that what had happened wasn’t his fault-what he could remember of it anyway-but the thought of Jethro getting that phone call, of him waiting to find out if he was alive or dead…if the shoe was on the other foot it would have brought him to his knees, possibly the edge of his sanity, and he wasn’t carrying the same kind of baggage.

Jethro shook his head, lifting Tony’s hand up to his lips and holding it there without a word.

“Where’s our girl?” He winced as he pushed himself up a little higher on the bed, trying to avoid the tangle of IVs.

“With my dad at the house. And don’t even say it,” Jethro grunted.

Tony grinned a little despite the warning. Jackson’s involvement in their lives was something Jethro had accepted somewhat grudgingly over the last two years and he knew that Bella adored her grandfather to pieces. “I’m glad he could come and help, but you need some rest too.”

“’M fine.” He said stubbornly despite the fatigue that coursed heavily through his limbs. Tony was alive and talking and his beloved green-eyed smile gave him all the strength he needed.

After helping Tony with a little more water, Jethro struggled to find the words to tell him what he knew needed to be told. He’d begged the hospital staff for this uninterrupted time alone so that he could convey both the loss and the decisions which had been made because of it.

Something dark passed over Jethro’s face and Tony began to worry. “What?” he asked. “Is there something you haven’t told me? Did someone else get killed in that mess? Everything’s okay with Bella isn’t it?”

He shook his head, knowing Tony could read him like a book. “She’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, everyone’s okay.” The heat behind his eyes was already pressing hard. “There was a…a complication during the surgery.”

Tony’s eyes grew wide. “Like I’m paralyzed or something?” He wiggled his toes and his fingers feeling a flood of relief when everything seemed to work relatively normally.

“No. Christ, I’m doing this all wrong.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Just tell me. Whatever it is I just…I just wanna know.” He didn’t want to know. He wanted to know that he was going to go back to his normal life with his family and the job he had grown to love, but there was no avoiding the truth of whatever Gibbs was struggling so hard with.

“There was a baby.” Somehow the words found their way out.

“What? I mean, I know we kind of half-talked about the idea of another one somewhere down the line but I thought you said you didn’t want to put yourself through it again.” His eyes automatically went to Jethro’s stomach, but he couldn’t help the little thrill of excitement that went through him at the thought. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to be talking about me?” He wanted to clear the fog from his head, to make sense of what was being said to him, but understanding would not take hold.

“Not me, Tony. You. When they did the surgery, the doctors…they found out you were…you were pregnant. About three weeks they said.” Jethro’s thumb worked slowly back and forth over Tony’s knuckles.

The hoot of laughter came automatically and burned his throat, made his incision feel tight. “That’s a hell of a thing to joke about, Jethro.”

“No joke,” he said sincerely, trying to keep that thinly veiled edge of grief out of his voice. “They had me speak with a specialist. She said it was a million to one shot.”

“Are you sure? I mean, there has to have been some kind of mistake? I can’t…I’m not supposed to…shit.” His free hand drifted down to his stomach and he rested it gently atop the blankets, eyes going wide with incredulity. “I’m pregnant?” He whispered the question half to himself, half to Gibbs.

Jethro shook his head sadly and met Tony’s eyes. “You _were_ pregnant, Tony. The baby…when you were shot…you lost a lot of blood and there was nothing they could do.” There was no holding back the tear that drifted down his cheek now. Though seeing Tony’s face light up at the very idea of it affirmed the decision he had made. “They said you probably would have miscarried it anyway.”

Tony didn’t understand the sense of loss that descended on him at those words. Jethro had told him that he’d been given something he had never in his life thought he wanted until a few years ago, had never thought he could have despite the new desire, and now it had been ripped from him without him ever knowing. He felt moisture on his cheeks to mirror Jethro’s.

“There’s more.” Jethro explained as best as he could what the doctors had told him about the repairs to Tony’s reproductive system, about the odds for the future. “I thought it was what you would want. After this, I think I’m glad I made the decision I did. Maybe I should have waited to ask you. Hell, I don’t know.”

Tony was feeling more pain from his abdomen as the drugs continued to wear off, but it was largely drowned out by his sheer sense of disbelief at what was being told to him. “So I lost a baby without even knowing I was pregnant, without even knowing it was a _possibility_ , and while I was out, some doctors snipped a few things here and there and now…and now I can just…” He couldn’t bring himself to even voice it.

“Only if you want to. Well, at least they tell me you have about 75% of the chance as anyone else with a healthy reproductive system. Although given our track record…” He smiled gently at Tony and swiped his thumb across his cheek. .

“This is…I don’t even know what to think.” Tony’s brows knit together. It was too much.

“Then don’t think about it right now. We have all the time in the world to decide.” Jethro stood and pressed his lips lightly to Tony’s forehead.

“Jethro?” Tony’s voice was tight.

Gibbs pulled back a little but stayed close, bent low over the bed and let Tony say what he needed to.

“I’m sorry about the baby. I didn’t…I never would have…” There was no way the sentence would complete itself.

“Don’t you blame yourself for this for one second, do you hear me? Not one second.” After more than two years together Jethro knew Tony, knew how he took these burdens and pushed them inside, insisted on bearing the weight of them all alone. He’d be damned if he’d allow him to do that now.

Tony nodded, tried to be convincing and knew he had failed miserably by the look in Jethro’s eyes. He’d care more if the pain wasn’t seriously starting to take charge now.

“There are a few people waiting outside to get a crack at you. Don’t think they’re gonna wait much longer,” Jethro pulled back, fingertips clinging to Tony’s own as he moved to the door.

“Normally I’d say let ‘em wait, but I think I want some drugs now.” He winced and shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Things were throbbing deep inside that he didn’t want to think about.

Gibbs nodded, still hating to leave his side even for this long, especially after the news he had just given him. As soon as he opened the door, a flood of medical personnel filled the room, checking this, adjusting that, taking blood and hanging IVs.

“He’ll likely sleep again, at least for a little while. We’re gradually decreasing his meds and hope to have him on a PCA pump by this evening. The sooner we can get him on his feet and moving around, the better. Dr. Oliver has asked us to let her know the next time he’s up and around again.” The nurse who had been intermittently hovering over Tony’s bedside for the last ten hours squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Get some rest while you can, Agent Gibbs. We’ll keep an eye on him while he’s out.”

He made an attempt at a weak smile so she wouldn’t mother him further and moved back into the chair beside Tony’s bed. The younger man’s eyes were beginning to fall closed and he had an adorable half-goofy grin on his face.

Tony’s head was full of cotton and the light in the room seemed to be growing dimmer. He raised a hand that felt a little like it belonged to someone else and beckoned Jethro closer. His tongue was feeling thick again. “Sleep.” The word was so heavy. “Love you.”

Jethro was pretty sure the first of Tony’s words was an instruction rather than a request. The last two brought a smile to his face as he brushed the soft hair at Tony’s temples. “Love you.”

“Ba-by.”

The two distinct syllables were almost a sigh on Tony’s lips. Jethro had been certain he was out cold and now his heart seized up tight at the pain-laced word.

* * *

 

“Tony, I’m Dr. Oliver.” The willowy brunette smiled and extended her hand to him.

Propped up as comfortably as he could be at the moment, Tony tried to ignore the discomfort that had crept in as his meds wore off and focus. “Hear you gave me a little nip and tuck.” He gave the most winning smile he could muster.

“You could say that,” she laughed. “How are you feeling? Anything unusual?”

“Aside from the bullet hole in my side and the puppet strings?” He indicated the IV wires. “No. I guess I don’t really feel any different…in that area. It’s kind of hard to separate things out.”

Oliver nodded. “I’ll do some testing and an exam before discharge to make sure you’re healing properly but I’d rather give everything a chance to settle unless there’s reason for concern before then. What kind of questions do you have?”

Tony looked to Gibbs. “I guess I’d like to know how this is even possible. Jethro kind of explained but, like I said, my Dad took me for all the usual tests when I was younger. He said there wasn’t a shot in hell, not even one in a million, and I never questioned it. If I’d known all it would take was a few snips here and there I might have…I don’t know.” He shook his head. The truth was, before Jethro he probably wouldn’t have done anything but take more precautions. “I guess maybe I would have liked to know.”

“It’s true that the methods we use for testing male carriers have been refined even in the last fifteen years.” She seemed to be considering her words carefully. “But even the most basic test would have shown that the abnormalities preventing your ability to conceive were reversible with minor procedures. I’m assuming you were a minor at the time you were tested?”

“Yeah.” Tony stared at the sheets, knuckles going white and then releasing as he made a few quick deductions. “So you’re saying my Dad knew? He knew that I could have…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. On the one hand it was something he should have expected from his father, on the other, it seemed the most intimate kind of betrayal imaginable.

“I’m sorry. I can only tell you what I know. I can’t speak to who would have had knowledge of your results or the decisions which may have been made as a result.” There was definitely sympathy in her voice.

Tony sniffed back the angry tears that clouded his vision. If he’d known there was even a tiny chance he’d have taken precautions with Jethro, with other men over the years. He never would have conceived, he never would have…” He shut the thought out. There were far too many should haves and would haves for him to deal with. What he needed now were answers about the future.

“So what happens now? Do I just…do we just start trying whenever we want?”

“I’d recommend waiting at least three months before trying to conceive. Your body has been through a trauma and you need to give it time to recover. Your muscles also need time to adapt to the new position of your reproductive organs in order to give you the very best chance of a normal, healthy pregnancy. If that’s something you choose, of course.”

It was a lot to consider, too much given the present circumstances. “So do I follow up with you then? When we think we’re ready? _If_ that’s what we decide.”

She smiled. “I’m just the nip and tuck specialist. But I can recommend a few Andrologists who specialize in pregnancy and fertility and they can do some follow-up assessments and give you the go-ahead when everything is fully healed.”

“We know a guy.” Jethro looked down at Tony with soft eyes, instinctively knowing where his head was at.

“Good. If you don’t have any more questions, then I’ll leave you my card and come back when you’re closer to discharge.” She handed a small business card to Jethro.

“Hey, Doc?” Tony caught her just as she was about to exit the room. “If I…If I hadn’t been shot is there a chance that I could have…Could the baby have survived?” He needed to hear it. One way or the other he needed the words to be said out loud.

She shook her head sadly. “With the position of your reproductive organs, the placenta wouldn’t have formed properly and you would have miscarried within a few weeks at most. There was nothing you or anyone else could have done, even if you’d known,” she said sincerely.

“Thank you.” Tony managed the words around the burning in his throat, not even caring about the wetness on his cheeks. “Thank you for everything.”


	3. Grieving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst kind of writer. I'm so disappointed in me. So here's what happened: I had all of these lovely chapters written, BUT, as with all fics, I reread and do a few switcheroos before posting each one. In this chapter, the final scene was just not sitting well with me and was originally much different. I just needed more angst. So essentially, I ended up scrapping the entire thing, adding more transition and build, just so I could rewrite 500 words of dialogue. I also seriously underestimated the toll work and the gorgeousness of California would have on my writing time. You have my humblest and most sincere apologies. Life is weird. I hope you enjoy this very reworked chapter.

_****_

 

Tony held his breath against the discomfort the pressure of the ultrasound wand caused in his still-healing abdomen. He knew Dr. Oliver was being as gentle as she could but the hurt made him uncomfortably aware of internal organs he had, up until now, not given much thought to.

“Everything looks great on this end.” She carefully wiped the gel from Tony’s belly. “The resuspension is holding nicely and the positioning looks just about perfect. Overall I’m extremely satisfied. How is your pain, Tony?”

“Not bad,” Tony tried to make his voice sound light and even. Already cleared by his general surgeon, he was less than an hour away from a ticket out of his hospital room prison and he’d be damned if he was going to let a little pain stop him from going home today.

“He’s lying.” Gibbs squeezed his hand.

“Not very well.” Dr. Oliver smiled.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Tony grumbled up at Gibbs.

“I am, when you’re not being a stubborn idiot.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on Tony’s forehead.

“It’s okay. A normal amount of pain is to be expected after the trauma your body has been through. As long as it’s getting better and not worse, I don’t think there’s any reason to keep you here another day.”

Tony winced as Jethro helped him sit up. “So what now?”

“I’ll meet with you in my office in one week for an internal exam before I turn you over for non-surgical follow-up. I’d like to give the swelling a chance to go down a bit more and the tissue time to heal some on its own.  Do you have any questions on the restrictions?” She looked to both of them.

“No exertion, lifting, pushing, or pulling over 5 pounds, no repetitive bending, oh, and my personal favorite, no sex,” Tony recited sullenly. “I got it.”

“You may start to feel like you can do more in the next few days, but try and remember that it takes time for your muscles and ligaments to adjust to their new positions and truly heal. The internal stitches will begin to dissolve on their own in the next week and any excess strain too early could cause a shift we don’t want to see.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “In addition to the gunshot wound and surgeries, you’re also still healing from your miscarriage, Tony. It takes time.” She squeezed his arm gently.

Tony wanted to respond, wanted to tell her that he was just fine, that is hadn’t even crossed his mind with so many other things to think about, but his lips wouldn’t open for the lie.

“He’s got a long list of people waiting to do the heavy lifting for a while. We’ll be okay.” Jethro came to Tony’s rescue.

Dr. Oliver looked from one man to the other for a moment. “Good. Then let’s get you checked out of here.”

* * *

 

 

“Da-dee!” Bella squealed as Tony came through the front door.

She toddled toward him hurriedly and he physically braced himself for the impact of her tiny body, turning his good side toward her to protect his still-healing incisions. To Tony’s surprise, however, his daughter came to an abrupt halt a foot away and glanced back over her shoulder at Abby who was standing near the stairs.

“Ca-foo,” Isabella said firmly, exercising a tremendous amount of restraint for a not-quite two-year old. She had clearly been cautioned about his homecoming.

“That’s right, Bella, careful.” Tony wanted nothing more than to pick her up and hold her tightly for the rest of the night, but even as tiny as she was he knew it was beyond him in his current condition. She approached him cautiously and wrapped herself around his leg, hugging like she would never let go.

“Come here big girl.” Jethro scooped his daughter up in his arms and brought her up to Tony, taking her weight as she threw her arms around his neck.

Something inside of Tony let go as she clung to him, and he realized that the warmth of her, the sunshine smell of her hair, and the sound of her tiny contented sighs were the best medicine he could ever receive. “Missed you, Gracie,” he murmured against the softness of her cheek, feeling the heat gathering behind his eyes as she hugged tighter.

“Where’s Jack?” Gibbs inquired. His father had been there most of the week that Tony was in the hospital, only leaving for a day to go back to Stillwater and check in on Billy who had the run of the store for the time being. Jethro was actually surprised that his father had seemed so willing to hand over the reins given his past experiences. Something in Jack seemed to have softened in the time since Isabella’s birth, but Gibbs hadn’t spent too much time really thinking about the change.

“Off getting groceries and filling all of Tony’s prescriptions. Ducky gave him quite the list of supplies,” Abby watched them with soft eyes, obviously nearly as happy as Isabella was to see Tony come home. She was almost bouncing on her toes in her own restraint.

“Did you behave for Auntie Abby today?” Jethro kept Isabella in his arms when she finally released Tony, and they made their way into the living room so the younger man could settle in on the couch.

“She was an angel as always.” Abby smiled as she watched them. “Why don’t you show your Daddy Tony the picture we made for him?”

Eyes instantly alight, Bella followed Abby back into the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder at Tony as she went, almost as if to reassure herself that he was still there. A few moments later she crawled onto the couch beside him and placed her picture on Tony’s lap very gingerly.

“That’s beautiful, baby.” He gave the gift his undivided attention. It was a very creative use of color and, while mostly scribbles, seemed to depict two larger figures with a smaller figure in between. A large circle was drawn around the whole group.

“Daddy. Daddy.” Isabella pointed proudly to the two figures in turn.

“And who’s this?” Tony pointed to the smaller figure.

“ME!” She laughed excitedly, her face growing serious again a moment later. “Daddy To-ey. Stay?”

As she looked up at him, her adoring eyes tinged with hope and sadness, the stab of guilt he felt at being away from her for so long over the last few months cut him far deeper than any of the physical wounds he had suffered. He leaned down carefully and pressed his lips to her hair. “Yes, Gracie. I’m staying. I’m home,” he sighed.

* * *

 

Jethro watched Tony carefully over the next week. He’d never been one to hover and knew Tony wouldn’t tolerate it if he did, but he was actually relieved that the younger man’s physical limitations gave him an excuse to be more present than normal.

On the surface, Tony seemed fine. He played with and held Isabella as much as his injuries and stamina allowed him to and, while his first few days were mostly spent on the couch, he was moving around the house more and more as the week went on.

Tony did an excellent job of hiding it from Isabella and their seemingly constant stream of visitors, but Gibbs saw the signs of the younger man’s continued pain and something else which worried him even more. He knew it was natural that Tony would protect his injured side, but it was the way his hand strayed to and settled on his abdomen when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes grew distant and contemplative at odd moments, the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, that told Jethro he was suffering more than he let on, enduring more than just physical hurt. Someone else noticed as well.

“What in the hell is going on with you two?” Jack cornered Jethro in the kitchen one afternoon while Tony was resting upstairs and Isabella was napping. He’d stayed the week so that Jethro’s hands were less full caring for both Isabella and Tony.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, offering one to Jack as well in an attempt to avoid a sure-to-be awkward conversation.

“Come on, Leroy. You’re worrying over that boy like he’s made of glass, and he’s not got nearly as good of a poker face as he thinks he has.” Jack set the beer on the counter, not even bothering to open it for the moment. “So what in the hell is going on?”

“Jesus, Dad, he just got shot,” he couldn’t bring himself to meet Jack’s eyes, “of course I’m worried about him.”

“Doctors don’t seem too worried about him, and he’s getting on well enough now that he’s home. You two have a fight? Somebody cheating on someone? I hear undercover work can be hard on a relationship, but I wouldn’t expect that from either of you.”

Jethro sighed. He knew Jack well enough to know when he wasn’t going to let go of a bone he’d gotten hold of.  “It’s nothing like that, Dad.”

“Then how about you tell me what it is like?” Jack’s voice was firm but also sympathetic.

Turning away, Jethro placed his hands firmly on the counter, partly to steady himself for what was to come and partly to give his eyes something to focus on. The words came slowly, but they came. “Tony was pregnant when he was shot. He lost the baby.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud to someone besides Tony, except in his blind rage at Sacks. The words sounded empty now, hollow, as if they were unfit in their simplicity to bear the weight of something so devastating.  “He didn’t know.”

The room was silent for a moment. “Leroy…” Jack finally exhaled slowly, shaking his head in sadness and disbelief.

“There’s more.” Jethro continued woodenly, relaying the deeper details of Tony’s assumed infertility, his father, the additional surgeries, Dr. Oliver. Once he got started, he realized he’d needed to say the words, had needed to tell someone. They flowed from him like a thick and dreadful river until there was nothing left to say. “He says he’s fine, but he’s not. I know it and he knows it, but he’s not ready to talk yet.”

“And what about you?” Jack prompted when it was clear Jethro was finally done.

“I’m worried about him. Maybe more than I need to be.” Jethro finally opened his beer and took a long swig. “Maybe more than I should be, but I don’t think so.  

“Didn’t ask about him, I asked about you. Tony’s not the only one who lost something, Leroy.”

Jethro fingered the edge of the label on the bottle where it was lifting just a little. Jack was right. More right than he was comfortable with, but there was no point in avoiding it. “Guess I’m not okay either, Dad.” He lifted his head. “Will be though, when he is.”

“If you say so.” Jack sounded skeptical but did not seem prepared to push further. “Know I’m here until then, right?” he said more gently.

Three years ago Jethro could not have imagined this moment taking place, could not have imagined feeling comforted by the presence of his father under any circumstances, and yet, here they were. “I know.” Blue eyes met blue in quiet acknowledgement.

“Okay then,” Jack opened his beer and took a drink before turning for the living room, leaving Jethro to his thoughts.

* * *

 

Jethro could feel Tony working himself up to the conversation, could feel the awkward, too-long pauses when it was just the two of them, when the house was quiet and Isabella was asleep. Whenever Jethro waited and gave him the opening, however, it seemed the younger man couldn’t find the words. Hesitant to push too hard, he maintained his own silence and tried to give Tony time to process everything that had happened to him in his own time. Jethro had certainly been surprised by his resiliency on more than one occasion in their relationship thus far, and tried to trust that the words would come when Tony was ready.

As Tony’s first week home drew to a close and his follow-up appointment with Dr. Oliver loomed, Gibbs could see him growing restless. He was obviously beginning to feel better and it was clear that the restraints of his confinement were starting to chafe.

“Wanna get out of here?” Gibbs proposed one sunny day, leaning casually against the entrance to the living room where Tony was propped up on the couch watching a game on TV while Isabella played on the floor next to him.

Tony’s face lit up, taking on more life than Jethro had seen since his homecoming. “You bustin’ me out of the place against doctor’s orders?” he asked hopefully.

“That depends. Think you can manage a walk to the park?”

Isabella squealed happily at the mention of the “P” word. “Swing, Dad-ee?” she inquired, eyes almost as excited as Tony’s.

“If it means getting off this couch, I think maybe I can run.” Tony pushed himself up, still careful not to move too quickly.

“One step at a time. Let’s start slow.” Jethro stepped in and kissed Tony lightly, lingering for a deeper, more intimate embrace when the younger man’s fingers slipped into his hair.

“Been too many days since we did that,” Tony murmured against his mouth when they broke apart a moment later.

“Agreed.” Jethro’s hand traced the outline of his back through his t-shirt. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” There was the beginning of something in that kiss, in the way Tony clung to him a little longer and a little tighter than the familiar gesture called for, and it gave him hope.

 Jethro moved to help Isabella who had extracted her stroller from its place in the corner of the dining room-once the residence of an old ten speed bike that was the living ghost of another lifetime-and was pushing it very determinedly toward the front door.

“Looks like someone else is ready to get out of the house.” Tony laughed.

“Ya think?”

“Swing!” Isabella repeated insistently, looking over her shoulder quite sternly.

“She gets that look from you.” Tony raised an eyebrow.

The quip was light and natural and Jethro felt his worry ease up just a little for the first time in almost a week. “How about letting me push?” Jethro pried Isabella’s hands off the stroller and swept her up into his arms as they set off.

The park was only two and a half blocks away and they took it at a leisurely pace, still, there was a fine sheen of sweat on Tony’s forehead when they finally made it to the bench near the swings that was their destination. Despite the obvious effort it was costing him, he looked happier than he had in days and seemed content to be a spectator while Bella exhausted Jethro on the playground. She finally settled in at the sandbox with a group of children of various ages where Tony and Jethro could both look-on from the sidelines.

At first the silence was comfortable as they watched their daughter play, and Tony moved closer to Jethro on the bench, sliding into the crook of his arm.

“How you feeling?”

“Better, actually,” Tony answered as if it surprised him. “Never was good at being on the injured list. I’ll probably pay for it later, but I needed this.”

“Figured.” Jethro’s thumb stroked back and forth beneath the edge of the sleeve of Tony’s t-shirt. He couldn’t put his finger on the moment when public affection had become second nature between them, but Jethro would not have relinquished the quiet comfort and warmth of the younger man’s body against his for anything in the world in that moment.  

A few minutes later, a young couple walked by with a child who looked to be near three, and a very small newborn in one of those Swedish sling contraptions Jethro had drawn a firm line at with Isabella.

Tony shifted on the bench and Jethro noticed his hand settle low on his stomach as it had done so many times in the last week.

“We gonna talk about it?” Jethro asked gently after the other family was safely out of ear shot. He felt Tony stiffen against him and saw how he tried to drop his hand back to the bench casually.

“Talk about what?” Tony shied and dodged as best he could. “That travesty of a game earlier? Because Michigan totally should have…”

Jethro cut him off. “Come on, it’s been two weeks. Are we gonna keep pretending nothing happened besides you getting shot? Ignore the rest?”

“I’m fine.” Tony kept his eyes on Isabella rather than Jethro.

“You’re not.” He turned and lightly brushed his fingers over Tony’s stomach. “I’m not,” he said quietly when the younger man finally met his gaze. It was the most honest moment they’d had with each other in over a week.

Tony hesitated, eyes widening when he saw the raw edges of grief play briefly over Jethro’s features. “Gibbs, I…”

“Daddy!” Isabella squealed excitedly, toddling toward them with her hands full of sand to break the spell of the moment.

As quickly as the door had begun to open it closed again, and Jethro could feel Tony shutting down. “I think maybe I’ve had enough for the day. Feeling kind of tired. Meet you back at the house?” Without waiting for an answer, Tony bent carefully to kiss Bella’s very dirty forehead and pushed himself off the bench.

* * *

 

When Jethro finally pried an incredibly dirty Isabella away from the park and made it home almost an hour later, it was close to sunset, and the house was quiet. He found Jack in the living room but no sign of Tony.

“Came in, said he was tired, and disappeared upstairs,” Jack explained, face mirroring Jethro’s concern.

“Can you hose her off in the kitchen sink and then do dinner? There’s a pile of clean clothes on the washer. Pretty sure she’s gonna crash after, but I don’t think this can wait.” His eyes went to the stairs as he lifted Isabella out of her stroller.

“’Course I can. I think there’s some leftover spaghetti in the fridge.’”

“’Sketti!” Bella clapped her hands together. She definitely had Tony’s taste in food.

“Might be awhile,” Jethro warned.

“Take all the time you need, son.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “I can put her down on the couch with me for the time being if you need longer.”

Jethro nodded his thanks and headed for the stairs.

Their bedroom was dark, but the light was on in the bathroom and the door was cracked. Jethro approached quietly and knocked tentatively before giving the door a slight push so that it swung open on its own. Tony sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub starring at his hands which contained a roll of gauze and a dispenser of cloth tape. The incisions in his side and belly were uncovered and it was clear that he had been in the midst of attempting to change his bandages on his own.

“Need some help?” Gibbs asked softly, hanging in the doorway until Tony acknowledged his presence.

“Guess so. Thought I could handle it myself, but…” Tony’s voice was flat and he neither looked up nor attempted to hand the bandages over to Jethro. 

Jethro moved in and sat beside him, worried now even more than he had been. “Why don’t you let me take these?” He covered Tony’s hands and took their contents, setting them to the side for the moment. The puckered incision still appeared to be healing well, but he could see that it had been weeping a little. “Gonna clean this off first.” He soaked a clean washcloth in warm water and gently dabbed the area around the incision to clean it. Tony didn’t move through the process and the only indication of his discomfort was the twitch of muscle along his flank. Jethro was about get up to rinse the soiled cloth when Tony grabbed his wrist and held him in place.

“I’m sorry I walked away earlier,” he said softly, his voice tight.

“I know. “Jethro acknowledged.

“I just couldn’t…I can’t…”Tony took a breath and tried again, finally looking up at Jethro. “I don’t know how to feel this.” The pain in his eyes contrasted with the still-flat quality of his voice.

“You think I do?” Tony’s hand still gripped his wrist and Jethro covered it with his own. Gradually, the younger man’s fingers relaxed.

“I’m sorry, Jethro. For the park, for getting shot, for not knowing about…just for all of it.” Tony pulled his hands away and let them fall to his lap.

“I’ll take the apology for the park but not for the rest,” Gibbs said firmly. “Don’t get to be sorry for things that weren’t your fault.”

Tony remained silent and clearly thoughtful.

“Let’s get this covered up.” Jethro could feel the storm moving in now and he could think of far more appropriate places for what was sure to be a difficult discussion than the middle of their bathroom. With certain hands, he made short work of reapplying the dressings to Tony wounds. When he was finished he took the younger man’s hands to help him up and didn’t miss Tony’s grimace of discomfort.

Jethro made sure that Tony got settled comfortably on the bed before he went back to clean up. He re-emerged from the bathroom a few moments later with a glass of water and one of the stronger prescription pain pills Tony had managed to almost wholly ween himself off of over the last week. “Take this.”

“I’m fine.” Tony pushed the offered pill away.

“You’re not.” The repetition of their earlier conversation was not lost on him.

“We gonna do this again?” Tony smiled ruefully.

“You’re in pain, just take the damn pill.”

“Fine,” Tony agreed, taking the glass and setting it on the table beside him. “But not yet.” The pills made his head fuzzy, made the edges of the pain duller, harder to define, and fuck him, if Jethro was going to make him talk about-about the ache the pills couldn’t touch, he damn well needed something to hold onto.

Jethro could see the firm resolve on the younger man’s face. Without further argument, he toed off his shoes and socks and slipped onto the bed beside Tony. He hadn’t bothered with the lights, but the curtains were open and there was still enough light coming into the room that he could make out Tony’s features clearly. Jethro moved into his spot beside him, propping himself on one elbow so that his face was slightly above-level with Tony’s. Their torsos were close but not touching, though he did loop one calf over and between Tony’s so that their bare feet pressed together in an oddly intimate embrace.

“Cold?” Gibbs asked once he was settled. Tony was still only in boxers but there was a blanket within easy reach.

“M’okay.” He brought one arm up and wrapped it around himself, letting the other rest in the small, warm space between his body and Jethro’s. The silence enfolded them, isolated them, and Tony was suddenly reminded of how _safe_ it felt to be beside his partner. Slowly, he lowered the arm draped across his stomach until his hand rested just above the waist of his loose boxers. “I feel it all the time now.” Tony’s voice was hesitant, thoughtful. “I mean, I always knew those parts of my body were there, it’s just I never thought about them.” He explained. “Kind of how you don’t think about your spleen or your appendix. They’re just there. You don’t really need them.” His thumb stroked the soft skin just below his navel. “But now it’s all I can think about.”

Jethro swallowed the tightness in his throat that came from the ache in the other man’s voice. “Tony, did I do the wrong thing? Did I make the wrong choice for you?” He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer.

Tony was quick to shake his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s what I would have…”He looked up at Jethro. “No,” he said more firmly, reassuringly.

“Okay.” He accepted the answer and thought maybe he understood the hesitancy that came with it. “You know that just because you _can_ do something doesn’t mean you have to, right? You know there isn’t one part of me that expects that from you? I just thought you deserved the chance to have the choice if there was even a possibility…”He put his hand lightly over the top of Tony’s where it rested on his belly.

“I know.” Tony felt Jethro inch slightly closer. “And the truth is, I don’t know what I want right now. I can’t even think that far ahead. I can’t think about another…another baby.” The last word was oddly choked off, and Tony realized he had been avoiding using it. It conjured up images that had been haunting him since before he left the hospital.

Jethro could feel Tony poised right on the razor’s edge of the pain now, and stayed silent, waiting.

The warmth of Jethro’s hand against his stomach was reassuring, but it was a reminder too. More than anything he wanted to flee from that reminder, but he seemed to have run out of places to hide. The words came slowly at first and then all at once, like an avalanche that starts with a few grains of snow and becomes an unstoppable wave.

“I keep thinking that if I’d known, I could somehow have-that I could have kept it. Kept the…the baby.” There was that word again, just two syllables, burning a hole in his heart. “Just keep asking myself if there was something I missed, something I felt that should have told me, even if it wasn’t supposed to be possible, you know?”

“It was only four weeks, Tony. It was so early.” He heard the ache in his own voice. The last thing he was going to do right now was tell Tony he shouldn’t be feeling whatever he was feeling, but he couldn’t stand to see him drowning in this needless guilt.

Tony nodded against the pillow. “Most of me knows that. And most of me believes the doctors when they say there wasn’t a chance it would have survived anyway.” He turned his head toward Jethro and the tears he’d been trying so desperately to hold back spilled over onto the pillow. “But then I look at Isabella, and I think, ‘What if?’. What if there was just this tiny chance?” He desperately needed Jethro to understand this, no matter how irrational it felt. “There was something alive inside of me, something that was you and me, and it died. I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t miss something I never even felt, that I never even knew about, something that was never supposed to be there in the first place, but I can’t stop.” The tears spilled over the bridge of his nose and plopped fat and heavy on the pillow, but he could not bring himself to wipe them away.

Carefully as he could, Jethro gathered Tony up into his arms and held him, pressing their foreheads together as his thumb swept back and forth over the younger man’s dampened cheek. “I know,” he whispered hoarsely, throat on fire with his own anguish. Tony’s words had tapped into the nameless thing he had been feeling for the last two weeks, the sense of heaviness, of loss and grief, that didn’t have a focus, that didn’t wholly make sense.

“It died,” Tony repeated, the words a broken sob, as Jethro’s reassuring weight enfolded and anchored him.

“I know. _God,_ I know.” He held the other man as tightly as he dared, burying his face in Tony’s neck and breathed in the reassuring scent of his skin as his chest tightened and ached.

Tony had no idea how long they lay together like that, but the room was dark when his deeper sobs quieted to soft hiccups. His still-short hair was wet from a mingling of his tears and Jethro’s, but gentle fingers carded through the longer parts on top, soothing him. He became aware again of the dull, throbbing ache of his wounds, but had no desire to move from Jethro’s arms.

“God, don’t think I’ve cried like that in years,” Tony sniffed and wiped his cheeks. Part of him felt foolish, but there was no denying the relief that had come with the opening of the floodgates. “You must think I’m a crazy idiot.” He tried to shed some of the awkwardness.

“Don’t do that,” Jethro said quietly, refusing to take the bait, “don’t run away from me now. I felt it too, you know. Do you know what it felt like to think about losing you? What it felt like when I got that call? I swear to God, Tony, I never want you to have to feel that. Scares the shit out of me to even think about it now. If it wasn’t for Isabella…I felt like I was gonna fly apart.” He had only let himself stare down that hole for a fraction of a second that night, and yet he’d been able to feel his entire world stop. It wasn’t something he was prepared to experience again.

Tony grew somber again, grounded by the way Jethro’s fingers curled possessively, almost desperately into the muscle of his back. “I know.” His thumb traced the patterns of the other man’s drying tears and he brushed his lips over Jethro’s. “How do we move past this? How do I?”

“Don’t think there’s a rulebook for this one. All I know is that pretending it never happened doesn’t work out very well. Least it didn’t for me.”

“Wasn’t doing so good at it myself,” Tony sniffed, smiling softly. He shifted slightly, feeling the burn of still-healing muscle. He tried to hide his wince of pain but knew he hadn’t been successful when Jethro began to pull away.

“Take the drugs.” Gibbs gestured toward the nightstand. “You hungry?”

Tony shrugged. “Little, I guess. But I think I’d like to stay up here awhile. I can live.” He watched Jethro move in the shadows. It had felt good to spend some time alone with Jethro in spite of the reason for it. Between hospitals, visitors, Jack, and a very attached little girl, they hadn’t much time to themselves in the last week.

“How would you feel about leftover spaghetti in bed?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t let me eat in bed since that little incident a few months ago.”

“Little incident?” Jethro chuffed, “We had an entire colony of ants in here.”

“Hey, in my defense, I didn’t see the bottle fall behind the nightstand. As I recall, it was your fault for distracting me.” He raised an eyebrow.

“This would be a special occasion,” Jethro brought them back to the matter at hand and pointedly ignored Tony’s attempt to blame him for the fact that he’d spilled 24 ounces of maple syrup behind their bed without noticing until they literally had a room full of ants.

“Would you be enjoying this dinner in bed with me?” Tony asked hopefully.

“Think I could be persuaded. Assuming our daughter hasn’t chased Jack out of the house yet.” Jethro hesitated at Tony’s side of the bed a moment before leaning down to kiss him slowly and thoroughly. “Whatever happens, whatever decisions get made down the road, we’re in this together. You were the one who taught me that.” His voice was a rough whisper hovering over Tony’s lips.

“I love you.” Tony breathed the words into his mouth, feeling again just how inadequate they really were.

Jethro pulled away slowly. “You should. I’m bringing you food. Might even let you talk me into a movie.” He moved toward the door, happy to hear silence from below.

“You know what could make me love you even more?” Tony proposed. “If you happened to find some leftover garlic bread to go with that pasta.” He smiled hopefully at Jethro’s retreating back.

“Don’t push your luck.” The words echoed up the stairs.


End file.
